


Surprises

by sunshinetina



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, Footy Secret Santa, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinetina/pseuds/sunshinetina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco transfers to Bayern Munich. Simple as that. And fluffy (of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bleedingdaylight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingdaylight/gifts).



> Last one! *whew*
> 
> Once again: Merry Christmas, darling! I hope that at least one of the three was for your taste! Enjoy your holidays! *mwah* <3 xxx
> 
> P.S. For the Footy Secret Santa (http://footy-ssanta.livejournal.com/).

It all starts when he wakes up on 14th of July, intensely rubbing his eyes as the phone vibrates almost in his ear, slipping through the layers of sheets and pillows. Marco yawns and blinks at the bright display. Five messages from Marcel. Where is the surprise in that?

 

Marco lifts himself up with a frustrated groan, his leg still hurting under the fluffy bedsheet, and stares at the phone, waiting for a pic to be loaded. Same pic sent by Marcel five times. Not to mention the amount of times it was sent by Robin.

 

 _Mario_. Mario, with the medal around his neck and-... And _his_ jersey, the _Reus_ , the _21_ jersey in his hand. Another picture sent. The jersey is around Mario’s neck. Another. Mario puts the jersey high above his head, apparently waving it.

 

Marco half-closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The sunrays tickle his nose.

 

_\---_

_‘I won’t survive without you in Brazil, Marco...’ Mario pouts and Marco chuckles, tying his trainers._

_‘You are surviving in Munich perfectly well.’_

_‘That’s not the same. We two are practically glued to the phone whenever there’s no game or training. It wouldn’t be possible in Brazil, you know Jogi’s politics regarding the phones.’_

_‘One hour. Not a second more!’ they both imitate their coach and burst out laughing thereafter. Mario absentmindedly touches Marco’s leg and it hurts – yes, the pain is almost unbearable, despite being relatively calmed by various painkillers – but it hurts even more when Mario touches him like that. Marco bites the inside of his cheek and looks down._

_‘Will you think of your injured friend?’_

_‘Do you doubt it?’ Marco shrugs in response and Mario squeezes his leg with a grin, ‘Marco, I miss you every second when you are not around.’_

_‘Even when you are fooling around with Ann-Kathrin, making it a swimsuit show for the paparazzi?’ Marco smirks and Mario blushes._

_‘Well, those moments caught on the pictures are exactly when I miss you the most,’ Mario’s answer catches Marco by surprise and green eyes meet brown. They both giggle and smile at each other._

_‘I will wait for your texts. Can’t wait for the updates about Lukas and Bastian-...’_

_‘-...and Mats and Benni.’_

_‘-...and Mats and Benni. Yes,’ Marco laughs and Mario smiles, making Marco sigh and involuntarily stretch his hand at the shorter man. Marco’s fingers entangle in Mario’s hair and he tugs it a bit, biting his lips in concentration._

_‘Marco?’_

_‘Hm?’_

_‘If I score a goal-...’_

_‘Is this an ‘if’?’ Marco pulls Mario’s hair and Mario frowns. Marco chuckles, ‘You will score, Sunny. For what I know, you might even become Germany’s hero.’_

_‘Yeah, yeah, don’t over-exaggerate it.’_

_‘Well, you are my hero already.’_

_Mario blushes again and clears his throat with a cough, ‘Every goal I score will be for you.’_

_‘Usually the footballers dedicate their goals to their parents, wives, children...’ Marco half-crooks his typical cocky smile. Mario squeezes his leg again._

_‘Reus!’_

_Marco laughs wholeheartedly and quickly kisses Mario’s cheek before taking his crutches and carefully standing up, ‘Hot chocolate?’_

_\---_

Dortmund hits the bottom. And yes, Marco knows the team better than he knows himself (especially recently, he seems to have grown too distant of himself, to be honest) and he is aware Borussia will rise like a phoenix from the ashes. Metaphorically speaking.

 

But the second injury, the team’s hardships, seeing Germany being world champions without feeling part of it... All of this makes Marco really lose himself. Contrary to his belief from an year or so ago that Mario leaving Dortmund would mean Mario leaving _him_ , Marco gets addicted to his phone in inexplicable ways. He goes to physio, he passes medical tests, but at the end of the day, there are always Marcel and Robin. And his phone. And _Mario_.

 

Ever since Brazil, their bond became so strong, Marco starts aching. Because regular phone-calls, skype conversations till dawn, funny whatsapp messages (when did those monkey emojis become his life?) – those were Mario _’s_ but not _Mario_. And Marco wants, Marco needs, Marco’s life depends on being able to stretch his hand and lose his fingers in the brownish-golden locks of his sunshine. He gets obsessed by the thought of seeing his smile right in front of him, by the sound of Mario’s laughter which would fill the room and make it brighter, by the scent of Mario left everywhere around Marco’s apartment for months. But... Mario is not here. The pain is.

 

When the first rumours start, Marco laughs them off with Mats and they both start imitating the press with various absurd headlines. One month later, however, Marco is sitting in his bed, laptop on his lap, and yet another analysing article.

 

_Bayern und Marco Reus? Nicht so unmöglich._

The skype tone echoes in the room and Marco subconsciously clicks the green button.

 

‘Heeeeey! What a privilege to see – Reus’s hair is still messy! Just woke up?’ Mario shoves the salty pretzel in his mouth and grins from the screen, while chewing ecstatically. Marco tries a smile and nods slowly, ‘Right. What’s wrong?’

 

‘Nothing, I am fine. Recovery going better than I thought.’

 

‘Marco!’

 

‘What?’

 

‘It’s the transfer rumours, isn’t it?’ Mario puts the pretzel away and Marco keeps silent.

 

‘We never had this talk with you, haven’t we?’ Marco manages a sad smile.

 

‘Marco...’

 

‘No, it’s fine. It still hurts me, you know – the way you left m-... _us_ and went to Munich, but I am coping with it.’

 

‘Talk to me.’

 

‘I-...’ Marco shakes his head and looks directly at the screen, ‘It’s not enough, Sunny. This is not enough. I want-...’

 

‘Challenge? Titles?’

 

‘ _You_.’

 

They keep silent. Mario’s cheeks slowly turn pink, then red, and then he bites his lips. Marco half-crooks another sad smile.

 

‘I shall go to physio now. Talk to you later, hm?’

 

But Marco closes his laptop before Mario is even able to respond.

 

\---

 

‘ _I’d love for Marco to come to Bayern but that’s entirely his decision_ ,’ Marco laughs while quoting Mario, ‘Wise words, Götze. Have you practiced them?’

 

‘Yes, in front of the mirror. Wanted to look my best while saying them, in order to convince you,’ Marco laughs loudly and Mario chuckles, ‘Didn’t expect your greetings, though.’

 

‘Well, yeah, you know me, I like making surprises to the people I love.’

 

Mario curves his lips in a childish smile and it’s Marco’s turn to blush furiously.

 

‘You looked great,’ Mario’s voice is soft and Marco lets out a shaky sigh.

 

‘Yeah, especially with that yellow wall behind me, right? Accentuates my eyes.’

 

‘Idiot,’ they chuckle again, ‘Thank you for the nice gesture.’

 

‘ _Nice gesture_ was you waving my jersey in Brazil,’ they pause, only loud breathing interrupting the heavy silence, ‘Mario?’

 

‘Hm?’

 

‘About the surprises...’ Marco nervously scratches the back of his neck, ‘I kinda have one more. Maybe.’

 

‘What is it?’

 

‘Patient enough?’

 

‘Come oooooon, Marcoooo!’ Mario pouts and Marco smirks, ‘Tell me!’

 

‘Nah. You’d have to wait for this one.’

 

\---

 

‘Scheiβe!’ Mario grits his teeth and rubs his calf, ‘Fuck it!’

 

‘Careful there!’ Mario freezes upon hearing a well-too-known voice in the near distance. Looks up, only to see Bastian and Thomas grinning at him (why isn’t anyone helping him stand up?). Mario turns around and sees Marco’s crooked smile, ‘We don’t want the golden boy from Memmingen to get injured, right?’

 

Some players greet Marco, and Mario (ouching and puffing loudly) stands up, eyes still glued to Marco in utter disbelief while Marco approaches him with a smirk.

 

‘Missed me?’

 

‘What are you-...’ Mario’s eyes grow wide and he gasps, ‘Marco, are you-... Marco!’

 

‘If you care to elaborate on your question, maybe I’d answer,’ Marco chuckles and brings his hand to Mario’s cheek, pinching it quickly. Mario’s face turns redder than ever, ‘I told you I like making surprises to those whom I love.’

 

‘You can’t be serious.’

 

‘On which part? That I am moving to Bayern or that I love you?’

 

Mario bites his lower lip and closes his eyes, nuzzling his cheek in Marco’s palm. Marco smirks again and runs his fingers through Mario’s hair, then abruptly pulls him closer in a hug. Mario buries his face in the crook of Marco’s neck, hands wrapped around his waist as if he was drowning and Marco was his only life-belt.

 

‘I wanted this so much,’ Mario mumbles with muffled sounds in Marco’s neck and Marco smirks again, brushing Mario’s hair.

 

‘Well, here I am.’

 

‘Mhm,’ Mario tightens his grip around Marco’s waist almost suffocatingly, ‘You are here. With me.’

 

‘I am, Sunny,’ Marco chuckles, placing a soft kiss on Mario’s temple. Mario hums something in response, ‘What?’

 

‘I love you,’ Mario shyly lifts his eyes up to meet Marco’s and Marco smiles down at him, cupping his face, thumbs caressing round cheeks.

 

‘Well, for those three words only, this transfer was all worth it,’ Marco smirks and Mario pouts, softly punching Marco’s chest, ‘Ouch! Right, ok. I love you too, Sunny. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Never ever.’

 

Mario grins and Marco blushes when the shorter man stands up on his tiptoes, his lips softly brushing Marco’s earlobe, ‘Enjoying your own surprises, hm?’

 

Marco nods and smirks. Licks his lips, ‘Oh, Sunny, just wait for the next one...’


End file.
